Lokhir (Blackheart)
' ' 'Early Life' (Slightly mature content ahead, you have been warned) Lokhir was born to Shiris and Zachary (information on their last names and history were lost when a fire burned their home down) in Gilneas (around 50 or so years before the Greymane wall closed and the Worgen plague hit, thus leaving Lokhir unaffected) For a good portion of his life, Lokhir was a normal child, an intellectual but always a rebel, his parents wanted to send him to Dalaran to be taught in the ways of the mage. Lacking the discipline needed to learn the arcane arts, Lokhir was restless, his body hungering for action. He cast aside his books and spent his time running and playing along the Gilnean landscape. His body became honed to near perfection but still he was not satisfied, he needed to be faster, he needed to endure more. Soon he found himsef in a rather sticky situation, he was a witness to a swath of crime sweep across his land as unrest became more and more prominent. He watched people sneak in and out of houses, robbing others and occasionally seeing unassuming passerby's get their pockets picked and witnessing people get swallowed into the shadows as thugs and brigands would stalk around the streets and back alleys of Gilneas City. As a somewhat impressionable teen, he decided that he would take up this life of underhanded enjoyment, his brash attitude not letting him see the possible consequences of his actions. A natural athlete, his favored methods and pastimes were jumping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging around corners and scaling walls, no one really ever able to catch him. His parents, for the most part, were unaware of their son's dealings as they were lead to believe he was an apprentice in the city. "He comes home with money and food" They thought. "He must be a wonderful apprentice". Lokhir darted in and out through the city streets, until his skills started to slip, he would find himself in the midst of being arrested or getting the living daylights beat out of him by the occasional gang of thieves, always escaping with his life barely intact. As such, his skills in battlefield repair are fairly proficient, his experience lending him the necessary knowledge to keep himself alive, usually until he finds a higher skilled medic (He discourages finding priests as they always want a confession). But his time in Gilneas wasn't wasted on crime, in fact he saw it more as survival of the fittest, feeding himself and his family, and silently scorning those who were idiotic enough to part with their possessions and monetary assets. If, for whatever reason, he couldn't find a suitable excuse for stealing their items, he would merely tell himself that he was holding onto it for them. Coincidental how he never seemed to find time to give it back.. 'Exodus' After Lokhir had his share of bruises and stolen purses, he finally decided to make something of his life, of course being the immature brat that he was, had yet to figure out exactly how his life was going to be changed. The first of many jobs in the world that came to Lokhir's mind was for him to be productive, not necessarily a hunter-gatherer type. He wanted to make something of himself in the world, eschewing fame and fortune, he wanted to pass knowing that he left doing a good job. His parents still residing in Gilneas, Lokhir left as a traveler, telling them that his time as an apprentice had come to an end and he was to start a new life. He found his natural aptitude for tinkering and resourceful creations led him to a great interest in Engineering. With a snap of his fingers, he found a career, and set himself off for the icy land of Dun Morogh. Through his travels he met a wide variety of people he could have never known existed. He passed through Silverpine Forest and caught up with a few travelling mages of Dalaran, learning (yet never, ever applying) their art of casting arcane energy. They settled at the township of Tarren Mill and Lokhir said his goodbyes as he traveled down the road past Durnholde Keep (Now starting to house some unsavory characters that Lokhir used his natural abilities to avoid). On through the Arathi Highlands, Lokhir made his way into Stromgarde, stopping for a quick pint as the soldiers there enlisted his aid as a mercenary to deal with a growing troll threat. Residing in the Keep for a few months, Lokhir put his skills to use once again, he traveled northeast to a shady grove, darting from tree to tree near a camp of the Witherbark Trolls, surveying their actions and waiting until night to strike. As the moon rose in the sky, Lokhir took his newly presented daggers (He was rather excited about testing them out despite their rather shoddy common quality) and dove for the first troll he could find. He learned a valuable lesson that day as the troll picked up his scent and turned on his heel as Lokhir landed directly ontop of him, the trolls' spear broke with it still in his hand as he jabbed it directly into Lokhir's lower back. Quickly dragging his blade across the trolls throat, he silenced this threat only to hobble along the way and fall into the bushes, his mission still not complete. A patrol passed by and Lokhir once again readied his blades, as the trolls turned the corner, Lokhir tossed his daggers and pounced another, cracking its neck, reclaiming his weapons and darting off again. No one had seen Lokhir since he left the previous afternoon and were starting to think that they lost another mercenary. Slamming the doors wide open, a patrol of Stromgarde guards dragged a bloody and broken Lokhir into the Command Headquarters. The medic rushed to his side, quickly surveying his wounds and starting her work as Lokhir's hand shifted to his side and untied a pouch, letting it drop to the floor next to her. He turned his right eye (his left one was bruised badly from an unsuspecting blow from a troll berserker) to her and said "Feel free to pay me whenever...just make it soon please" He gave her a big smile and passed out from his injuries. Waking up in the infirmary, Lokhir turned to sit up on his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and finding a fat purse of coins next to him with an insignia and a note attached. A simple sentence was written "This soon enough?". Gathering his effects, Lokhir walked out of Stromgarde an honored man, the medic waiting for him with a beautiful horse at her side. "You're going to need this" He chuckled and petted the beast. "Oh? And why is that?" He inquired. "Trolls run faster than humans, not horses" (She neglected to mention their ability to tame their own mounts, which Lokhir cursed her for in a later incident). Mounting the horse, he tossed her a small flower ring he had been keeping in his pouch ever since the beginning of the troll incident. She slipped the ring on and looked up, her sweet brown eyes full of joy. "Please come back when you're done in Ironforge" His brows furrowed. "Needing a strong, quick rogue like me to protect you, do you?" He let out a heartfelt laugh. "Nah, I just can't come with you and I know you'll need someone to keep you alive" She grinned "Now git!" She giggled and the horse took off. "I'll be back!" He yelled as the horse went into a gallop towards the Thandol Span. He never saw her again. The Blades No sooner that Lokhir crossed the Thandol Valley and through the Wetlands did he finally reach Dun Morogh, stopping for a while in the small dwarven township of Kharanos to rest and refill, he overheard a dwarf talking about a rivalry between the esteemed Valorwind Regiment and the Ravenholdt Blades. He walked over to the dwarf and inquired about the Blades. They had a fierce reputation as a collection of the best thieves, assassins, and mercenaries that money could buy. "What's yer interest in 'em, longshanks?" The dwarf proudly stated, hefting his girth towards Lokhir, a thick, strong mug of ale in his hand. "These men and women are without peer, I need to learn more." He simply stated. "Well then, ye best be off to Stormwind and check inta' S.I.7, word 'as it that the Blades occasionally take contracts oot o' there". Lokhir bought the dwarf another drink in thanks, giving each other slight nods in respect before heading off down the road. He eventually stopped into Tinker Town to consult the Gnomish Engineers on possibly undertaking a job with them. He met a rather exuberant and friendly gnome named Wally Crankshaft. He explained the various basics for Engineering and gave him a few plans to start him off, as well as some key Gnomish words of wisdom, not the least of which being "Necessity is the first cousin of invention!" Mekkatorque overheard this and proceeded to scold and chastise Crankshaft for stealing his quote. In the midst of all this, Lokhir stole off down the hallway into the Tram. When he finally arrived in the metropolis, Lokhir was lost as to where to go. Stormwind was massive, winding through the canals as he saw humans, dwarfs, night elfs, gnomes and even a couple of draenei visiting from the newly crashed Naaru ship, The Exodar. Off he went like a social butterfly, passing through the crowds and greeting every shop keeper he could find to get any information on the Ravenholdt Blades and directions to S.I.7, the former being much more difficult to procure than the latter. Eventually, there came screams and shouts from the citizens. Valorwind and the Blades were fighting at the harbor. Snatching this chance, Lokhir made a mad dash to the docks where another patrol of a militant group claiming exceptional loyalty to Stormwind marched in an effort to bolster Valorwinds' numbers. He tried to get passed but was stopped by a nameless novice who drew his sword and backed Lokhir against the wall. Grinning behind his mask, Lokhir dragged the young man into the alleyway out from the notice of his allies and slew him quickly and quietly. Stealing his armor, Lokhir took the form of the man and marched with the rest of the group and surveyed the fight that took place between them. Though no blood was shed, he took mental images of each of the members. Brenthgar, Xanstin, Sidorio, Ghosst, to name a few, though he knew not their names, they would become his greatest allies. But the Blades had allies too, not the least of which was the esteemed House of Grey. Turning his gaze to a few present, he saw the master of the House. Seth Grey, his personal bodyguards Catherfana, Lyyai, Thaelan, Valcore, Dalithor and a druid named Arrowshifter. A New Chapter Soon after Lokhir joined the Blades, he found himself put to work relatively quickly. The Legion who allied themselves with both Stormwind and Valorwind turned their weapons upon The Blades directly. As newest recruit, but far from an average greenhorn, Lokhir took up his mantle as the young dispatched soldier again and inflitrated the force. He assured Brenthgar a job well done and had much to show for it. Bringing back names, titles, jobs, bases of operation and familial affiliations, Lokhir dropped a hefty stack of information onto Brenthgar's lap while sending copies to Arrowshifter so that the House and the Blades could make a decisive strike. Brenthgar and Xanstin made sure that a large handful of his bretheren were spread throughout the city like a net to track their quarry and aid the young assassin in whatever he needed, themselves included. Reporting back to his "post", Lokhir sowed dissent amongst the army and forced other members to abandon its cause, or to promote seditious activity. While its leader acted honorably in an attempt to keep his army from splitting, the end was sadly inevitable and the force disbanded with much bloodshed between the ranks. Lokhir neutralized this threat but not single-handedly. After the flames had died down, the Blades settled back into the shadows, donning their normal street clothes and heading over to the Pig and Whistle for a night of triumphant, but silent, victory. Collapsing from exhaustion against the railing, Lokhir sat and listened to the various talks between Madgam, Sidorio, Brenthgar, Ghosst, Madroy and Xanstin on how best to keep the Blades safe, as well as the House of Grey. Lokhir's curiosity moved to Arrowshifter, the brave and independant druid who seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be the tactical leader of the House. Her words came out with such wisdom, surely only that which could have been gained through years of experience. A quick smile and a flash of interest in each other's eyes showed that there was another conversation but now was not the time. He would remember that for later. So would she. He began to speak with her on how best to lead the House and the Blades in a tight-knit manner, brainstorming with the rest of the company there and finally ending the night with a bout of raucous drinking and dancing. Although Arrowshifter was clearly unimpressed, and at best, slightly amused, Lokhir felt that with such a powerful ally, he had a long while to gain friendship. Perhaps more. Their time came to a slight and narrow way when Xanstin lead his assassins against another threat, though one not as large as the Valorwind Incident. Lokhir fought against Xanstin, calling his methods unorthodox and gladly laughing in his face like the rebel he was. He regretted this soon after. After berating a senior officer, Lokhir was subject to a harsh punishment of flogging and beating. Still smiling as his deadened nerves shrugged off some of the hardest blows, Xanstin noticed the strong spirit in the lad, how his underhanded nature yet enduring spirit allowed him much in the arena of subtlety. Soon he was promoted, by recommendation of Xanstin and appointment of Brenthgar, Lokhir took up the mantle of Master of the Intel Division, leading his squads in learning everything about the enemy then delivering the killing blow to whatever target dared attack his beloved Blades. Though prestige and victory were his, and his rise through the ranks nothing short of astronomical, Lokhir felt that he was far from worthy of the position, leadership was not technically his strong point and he had no real experience to coordinate the tasks in a contract that he normally would have done himself. As he honed his abilities farther inside of S.I.7, an issue struck Brenthgar and he left for Kalimdor ((Went OOC for a family issue)) leaving Xanstin and Lokhir to lead the Blades as best they could. Whilst Brenthgar was away, Lokhir spent much time with Arrowshifter, learning her background and mannerisms. He soon discovered that her and Brenthgar were to be married. Shocked and disappointed with this news, Lokhir turned inwards, his masked face never betraying his feelings as he went along with his duties. Through a score of corpses, he started to see shadows flit and dart out of the periphery of his vision, it happened when he was carrying out one contract, then another then another. Someone was following him. This didn't sit well with Lokhir, not one bit. No one had ever seen his face before, but if they could, they would see disarming fear. He didn't like what he could not see, he would even be terrified of it, given the circumstances. Although this supposed threat had caused him no harm, he was still wary. Along his way out through Redridge he was content to jump from tree to tree in the summer air, getting his normal exercise and watching the unsuspecting people below, he eventually came to a particularly large, thick tree and decided to rest and take a nap on its massive branch. A while later, he was awoken by the sound of a bloodcurdling scream. Rushing to at least see something amusing, Lokhir hid behind one of the rocks on the cliff and witnessed a coterie of orcs stalking towards a young woman, her alabaster skin glowing like a warm pearl in the sunlight. Upon closer investigation, he saw that it was an elf, a high elf. Her brilliant sapphire eyes overcome with utter terror at the horror about to be wrought upon her supple frame. He pondered the pro's and con's of this and decided to be the "good guy" this time and give the woman his aid. He tossed his smoke bombs into the crowd of crowd of orcs and dashed through the mess and grabbed the woman, dragging her to the safety of the rocky heights. "Stay here and keep quiet, you'll get one chance to live from these guys" He dashed back down to take care of the threat. With the smoke still hazy in their eyes, Lokhir tossed a handful of pepper from his pouch into their eyes and watched the chaos that ensued. His arrogance overcame him once again as he grabbed his daggers and lunged towards the orcs, a stray ball of flame from a warlock caught the broadside of a flailing axe and hit Lokhir in the face, causing a horrendous burn on his left cheek. Burning through his mask, and following through with the swing, the orc cut a deep gash on his right cheek, the flesh searing away partially. In desperation, Lokhir swung his foot upwards hard and knocked the wind out of the orc, his blow breaking one of the beasts' ribs. He pulled a stick of dynamite and shoved it into the orcs' mouth, jumping away as the explosion rocked the foundation and threw the remaining adversaries over the cliff wall and hurtling to their jagged deaths below. The elf was saved, but Lokhir's face was irredeemably ruined, his cheek flesh torn and burned away, his lips blackened and cracked. He pulled another cover from his belt and tied it about his head, being very careful to not let the young woman see his face, even if it was deformed. The elf, who refused to give her real name, just a title of Dawn. "How predictable" Lokhir thought to himself. She turned to him and embraced him in a tight hug and giggled with such mirth that to Lokhir it was liquid laughter that refreshed his mind. She looked up at him with those brilliant and blazing sapphire eyes that burned so lovingly into his mind, and he didn't not care, in fact, he welcomed it. "I would never turn away one so determined to save a strangers' life, and for that I thank you profusely" Lokhir sort of turned and looked away, ashamed to even attempt a smile. "May I ask you something, human?" She inquired with an almost innocent curiosity that he found irresistable. He said nothing, merely nodded. "If I say that I am a stranger in the present hailing from the east seeking a future which must be found..." Lokhir's eyes turned back to gaze deep into her, absolutely confused. "I would reply..." He pondered for a small while "That I am a man from the west and I bring the answers of all pasts". Her lips parted in a sweet grin and her eyes twinkled again. "I have another, stranger...this time a riddle." Lokhir was dumbfounded that this fear-stricken damsel became hardened and logical, almost playing a dance of razors to him. He was cut, so was she, and together they would spin, dash and flip, taking turns opening new wounds, and refusing the old to heal. "I am always hungry, and must be fed, the finger I lick shall soon turn red" She grinned again. "Fire" He responded. "What is it that goes up but not down?" Her eyes narrowed. "Age". His face deadpan as the cogs in his mind worked. "Billions and billions of us rush to the never closing door, seeking solace at the bottom for when our grains have settled, all shall be revealed" Lokhir thought long and hard, finally, his eyes glowing with ambition to win he replied calmly. "An hourglass". She hummed and danced a little to herself as her mind went along. "Tick tock...tick tock, time is running out..." She grinned that infamous grin that Lokhir was starting to hate. "Of course it's time, what are you looking for there? That's not even a riddle". She stopped and spun on her heel, looking at him, her face serious. "I was talking to myself" She marched up to him and stopped, her face becoming sweet and soft again. "I reside within Tanaris, stranger. Come to Gadgetzan, I want to show you something that I think I could use your help with." Lokhir, being the self-styled rogue and hard bargainer (or so he thought) asked how much money he would be making for this job as his services did not come cheap. "What I offer is more valuable than coin." She smirked. "Tanaris. Five days time. I will wait no longer. I promise nothing but this, if you accept your fate, the power shall be yours, and with it, you shall do our wonders". With that she leaned in and kissed his exposed cheek bone, a slight tingling in his flesh as he become loose and woozy, passing out, his last bits of vision watching the woman walk away, body swaying, her sultry hips swinging teasingly, the liquid laughter still in her voice. "Our...wonders?...sweet Gods...more riddles" he thought as his mind quickly faded to black. 'The Wind and the Earth' Lokhir awoke in the Redridge Inn to the smell of spice bread and honeymint tea brewing downstairs. "No time for the pleasantries" He thought and slid out of the windows backwards in a slight flip that landed him on his haunches as he stole into the warm evening, his mind concentrating on his agenda to get to Tanaris and make a hefty amount of gold. For Lokhir, the woman had to have been a princess or something. Although her residence being in Tanaris never really seemed to click in his mind as being slightly odd and nowhere near a place for a princess to rule from, he still trudged on through Elwynn and ran into Stormwind, determined to catch the boat and head there immediately. Interrupted by Glorele, another member of the Blades, Lokhir became distracted with her beauty, and as the rogue inside him refused to let him rest on this, he played upon his instincts. Although a rather unwise idea, it ended horribly as Glorele's temper and his brash attitude locked horns and exploded. Turning away with a slight sense of self-absorbed pride, Lokhir turned and walked away, stopping for a moment to stretch in the warm night air, he heard a familiar voice purring into his ear. "You worry me...". It was Arrow. Lokhir turned to see her shift and phase into her normal form. "I worry myself sometimes." Even as a night elf she still silently padded about him. "What do you want with her?" she inquired, a hint of worried desire in her voice that Lokhir notices yet respectfully dismissed. "Don't start, Arrow. I know you're a healer and the loving type, but she's..." He sighed. "I don't know, she's something else" He dismissed that idea as well, giving up on Glorele and turning to the matriarchal night elf that stood like a foundation in his presence. "I have a question..." She purred. This would be the first of millions, and Lokhir liked it. "Do you sometimes wish Brenthgar and I were not together?" She caught him off guard. This would be the first of very, very few. "Sometimes" he replied with a poison in his voice like he was ready to strike if something were to come at him. "Why do you want me then?" Such strength and independence in her voice and body language intoxicated him, but still he refused to answer, instead, he turned and walked away. Determined, she followed him, rather loudly and obviously as she would would have her answer, come hell or high water. "A mind is a wonderful thing to love, Arrowshifter..." His hands clasped to his back as he strolled through the forests of Elwynn and headed towards Westfall. There they would talk for hours, playing back and forth on their words as Lokhir did in Redridge. His jaw becoming sore and stinging with agony, Lokhir turned away and left Arrow to try and heal himself, pulling herbs out of his pockets to massage into his exposed muscles. Peering at him curiously, she came slightly too close to where Lokhir lashed out at her, finally removing his mask where she saw his hideous visage for the first time. Completely unphased, she approached him with her hands in her pockets, pulling seeds and vines. His eyes growing wide with horror, he jumped and recoiled, sprinting down the dirt road. Arrow sighed and tossed the tendrils at his legs, speaking in a few kaldorian whispers as his lower body became constricted, growing up ever farther to his arms before he could grab his blades. She walked over to him and kneeled, his growling face going without answer. Slathering a muddy substance over his flesh, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the chittering and sensation that things were crawling over him. Unable to do so, he passed out. He awoke to the smell of burning hickory, and a chilly draft blowing against the door. His head felt smoky, as if a cloud of confusion was pouring out of him when he surveyed his surroundings. Arrow was there, in front of the fire, poking at it absent-mindedly and humming to herself in Kaldorian. He responded to her in her native tongue. "If you keep prodding that thing is never going to burn the right way" She seemed to react as if she knew he was already up, but still surprised that he knew her language. Must've been those ears, he thought, they hear everything. "It's nice here..nature lies mostly unmolested in these parts..." She had a purr in her voice like honeyed velvet that drove Lokhir wild, though he kept his control. "It is indeed..." He took a large sniff of the air and exhaled. "I'm starving and something smells wonderful". She pointed to the plates on the table of a marvelous spread she'd prepared. "I pulled some things out of your pack to make it, didn't feel like hunting" He chuckled slightly, the only woman, let alone person, he'd allow to rummage through his things. Pulling the bear-skin cover away he found himself almost naked, the fur of his bedspread ruffling against his bare skin. "Hope my gear wasn't too much of an issue" His sarcasm went unnoticed. "Not at all, you had wounds to heal, so I healed them. Eat, you'll need your strength". His warm feet peeled across the stone floor as he made his way to the table.He stared at his repast before he took a hesitant bite and found just how famished he was. Scarfing it down, Arrow simply watched in confusion as she slowly nibbled away at her own food. "I see you like my cooking" She cooed. "I love it, I adore it" He said as he trailed off, munching away. After dinner, Lokhir layed back into bed, sated on what was a glorious meal prepared by the resourceful and beautiful druid. He pulled a book from his rucksack and flipped open the pages. "What are we to do about Brenthgar and the rest?" She inquired. Slightly perturbed at the interruption but dismissing it just as quickly, he put his book down and looked into her glowing, enticing eyes. "We will see what time has to offer us, yeah? Nothing is going to be gained in worrying, and frankly, I'd rather sit here with you and await orders" He turned his head away shyly. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world, I'll tell you that right now.." She smiled at him warmly and then crawled on her hands and knees to him. "It's late" Half of her face peered at him at the edge of the bed. "We need rest". She turned away and undid her robes, letting them fall to the floor like rain. Lokhir quickly averted his gaze before he saw anything. Turning to him shyly, she crawled next to him and layed her head on his chest, her arms wrapped about his torso as the furry blanket covered them. She whispered things into his ear about her happiness at being around him, eventually reiterating that they needed rest. But when Lokhir turned to meet her gaze, no rest would be had until far later when their primal natures subsided. For the night they were more than allies. They were explorers, they were animals, nay, they were mates. Though Arrow slept deeply in his arms, Lokhir tossed and turned all night. Visions plagued his mind in his restless sleep. Visions of Gilneas burning ran through his mind, but he would be counted as lucky if this was his only problem. He saw Arrow's face, sweet and smiling with her head bowed as a vortex opened on her forehead, a gaping dragon's maw opening, offering oblivion to Lokhir's turbulent soul. He turned away to see Brenthgar, or what resembled Brenthgar, shambling towards him, a garrote wire between his fingers. His empty eye sockets betraying only the mindless murder he wished to bless him with. In his horror, Lokhir screamed at the top of his lungs and flew against the apparition, fists swinging wildly as he batted it away. "Ye' kinneh hold on foreva', Lok..." Was all he heard after phlemgy, choking laughter filled his ears. Out of nowhere, the sounds of shambling hordes readied their bloody barrage against him. Drooling, rotten visages, gaping maws, necrotic flesh, rusted weaponry, exposed and festering wounds were all that were lain bare and terrible before his naked eyes, the vision of all those he had slain before. To his right, he saw a shield made of glimmering reddish-golden scales which he grabbed and rolled away into a defensive crouch. "Gilnean!" They screamed. "Not even death may stay our rage here. We will never forget what you did to us. Lay down your defense and succumb to oblivion's embrace!" They hissed through dry, parched throats. "Undead!..." He smirked, making a rude gesture at them. "You want me? Come and get me!". His bluff didn't rightly work. It was a shot, he thought. The clattering of tough, leathery flesh rubbing against rusted metal echoed, as they walked towards him, picking up the pace. With a shift through the air, a voice called out to the area. "If you accept your fate..." It resounded through his mind and his resilience soon redoubled. Looking towards the heavens for a source, he saw none, and merely smiled at the horde. "I retreat to no grave for mine is where I make my stand! If this be my destiny then I will tread it's razor edged path! Come face me, you whoreson bastards! Come and dare to wither under my blazing hatred!" He ran forwards into the charging mass and as his own courageous yet terrified screams filled the shifting area all seemed to come to a fading halt "With it...you shall do our wonders..." His serrated shield cut through only dead air and the nightmare dissipated into a deep slumber. "I knew we made the right choice, Lokhir Zendiralis...we shall see you soon". He fell into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night. Waking up the morning after, he stretched his taut muscles outwards, feeling the knots unfold and his bones pop back into place as Arrow's bright eyes looked up at him and closed with a content sigh, wrapping her body around him, her hands tickling his flesh as she traced her fingernail across the chisled form of his torso. Taking in his scent she rolled into a ball about him as he comforted her, pulling the bear-fur blankets over them and turning his thoughts to his dream. His arm twitched slightly as his vein turned black, moving up to his bicep into his chest, causing him some slight pain. "Spider bites...always happen" he thought. But deep in his psyche all was not well. Shrugging off the idea of something more serious, Lokhir produced a ring from a satchel he had over the bed. "I wanted you to have this...had it since I was in Gilneas" Arrow blinked with her brilliant eyes curiously peering over the baubel. "What does it do?" He smiled and breathed on it as the sapphire gem inside swirled with grey smoke inside. He slipped it over her finger as the gem produced an image of rapidly-growing fauna and flora. Her eyes peered at it with logical curiosity, studying it's effects without being dumbstruck. "Ring of Wind and Earth. One the grounded mind, the other, of flighty thought." He smiled and kissed her head. "Couldn't be more true" She replied with a scant smile. "Though I thought it would be more widely accepted if our roles should been switched" She shrugged. "The Rule of Paradox, cheri, if one is to always be expected, such mechanical learning leaves no wonder to our knowledge. Seems fate has a sense of irony after all" He smiled and kissed her forehead. She tightened her hand and nuzzled back into him as they both nodded back off to sleep for a small while longer. Finally she was his. 'Enter the Hourglass' When Lokhir awoke the next morn, Arrow was gone. He rose from his bed, wiping the sleep out of his eyes wondering where she'd gone. It was quite typical to be afraid of a one-night stand. But such was not the case with he. It was something that was to be expected. We're all busy people after all, he would say to himself. He stretched and went to the table with a note attatched to his neatly folded clothing. In Darnassian it read: "Enjoy your rest, see you back at home". Chuckling to himself, he tucked the note into his pants pocket and readily donned his gear. It was a design of Lokhir's own make that tied about the body to make sure it fitted the form of the wearer. Tethers attached under the arms and around the waist ensured that whatever he kept on his person would stay there. Stretching and breaking in the feel of his gear, Lokhir looked at the hourglass sitting on the table. "Two days left...ah dammit..." He thought to himself as he bolted out of the house, closing the door and locking it, huffing and puffing his way to Ironforge to take the Tram back into Stormwind. Once at the Dwarven District he bounded his way down through the very early morning of the city streets and headed for the harbor. Just at the dock, he saw a very beautiful yet muscular elf woman who was guarding the boat he needed to take to Kalimdor. Before he walked up into her view, he took the small steps down the side and slipped under the docks. "Coulda sworn it was around here somewhere" She heard a voice below her say. "Ah. Perfect". There was some slight creaking and shifting as Lokhir eventually crawled up the other side and dusted himself off, the elf peering at him warily. "Ticket." She said. It was an order, not a question. He pointed to himself "No, human." She was not amused. "Only those who have booked passage on this vessel can cross the sea, you'll need to return again if you wish to set sail with us." She stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He sighed "Look, I'm one of the dock workers, alright? And I need to get on that boat and get to its port of call before I'm too late, there are shipments to deliver and they aren't going to sort themselves, I don't want to argue this." She smirked slightly. "There is no arguement to be had. If you are not a labeled passenger, you cannot board. Apologies." She grinned. "I would help but you look oh so busy". He raised an eyebrow and tapped his foot. Her bodyguards readied their weapons in case a fight was to break out. "Idiot pointy-ears can't even fight their own battles" He huffed and very slowly and gently started to walk off, sighing heavily. "Excuse me?" She said, her bodyguards following her every step as the boards gave way under them and they collapsed into the ocean. Getting down onto his haunches he watched the struggling people below. "I would help but you look oh so busy" He skipped over the gap and strolled onto the boat, taking refuge in the holds until the reached Kalimdor. A few days later when the boats finally hit Rut'Theran Village, Lokhir crawled his way out of a porthole to remain undetected in case anyone noticed that a fairly large portion of their supplies were gone for no reason. Writing off the idea of pinning this on bilge rats, Lokhir made his escape as fast as possible. Opening a back hatch on the ship he took one of their paddle boats and sailed his own merry way off to larger land. Ever careful not to get caught or arouse suspicions, he let the boat sail into Auberdine with no one in it, a repairable hole in the side, suggesting that someone either drowned or abandoned it. Regardless, they would find no Lokhir. Sneaking around the other side, he wandered through the forests of Darkshore and Ashenvale. Into the woods he made his way, the songs of the Night Elves permeating the warm, sweet, perfumed summer air. The ghostly, celestial voices echoing through every nuance of that natural land. Lokhir turned the corner to be greeted with the sight of three elven rangers, bows armed at the ready. "Andhu Falanah..." One said sarcastically. "...if this is about the paddle boat, it was like that when I got it." He stated flatly. "What strangers tread sacred Elune's realm at this time of night so armed?" She gestured at his daggers with her bow. "I asked myself the very same question before I ventured out here, which is why I carry my weapons. Please, my friends, I am but a simple traveler" He stated pleadingly. Inside he felt nothing but the instinct to survive. No room for sadness in these moments, he thought to himself, if they're going to shoot or stab you, you can be assured they'll do everything in their power to follow through with it, begging'll do you no good. One lowered her bow and walked towards him, sheathing it and attempted to take him by the wrist. He bounced back and instinctually the Sentinels loosed their arrows at him. Catching one in his hand out of pure luck, he giggled madly at the prospect of it happening while the other grazed his bicep. Wincing he darted around the tree to ready his daggers. "Can I -ever- get somewhere without someone trying to -kill- me!?" They ignored his scream. "You tread the den of the enemy and bare your fangs. Not very wise." A Sentinel remarked from a branch above, her glaive sharp and locked. "I like a challenge" He rebutted sarcastically and tossed a smoke flare around him, stealing into the night. The Sentinels followed, yet the trail became colder. "Sisters. Split and regroup when you have found him. I want him alive. I suspect there is more to this man than we have seen". "Yeah like my ammo!" He yelled. They didn't notice the rocks that flew at them from behind, knocking them out. They didn't notice that Lokhir dragged them to higher ground so they wouldn't be prey to the wild, rummaging through their packs to set up a small camp out of the way so they would wake up in relative comfort after he had dressed their wounds and written a note of apology. They also didn't notice Lokhir take their daggers for himself. "I would forsake this normally but my need is great" He checked for their badges, finding only their draft scrolls and scrawling their names upon the newly acquired blades. "For this you have done me a great service, my strikes will be in your honor, my friends". He said to their unconcious forms after he wrote it on the note he left and bowed to them. In the shadows, a figure lowered her bow and calmed her riled pet. A nod of respect was sent Lokhir's way as she blended back into the natural umbra. It was the only thing he didn't notice. After he was assured he was finally away from the commotion, he came to a Horde barricade at the footholds of the Barrens, ever mindful to avoid confrontation simply because he did not have the stamina to endure a berserking Orc, let alone a group of Ashenvale Sentinels, Lokhir removed a packet bomb he fashioned of his own supplies and created a massive smoke cloud that dazed all inside of it. The orcs came to a startling revelation, this smoke was acrid, almost impossible to see through, and it burned horribly. Gripping their faces in utter agony, they screamed about, ripping their weapons free and slashing at each other, felling a few of their number in the chaos. Lokhir could only stand still with his mouth agape in impressive awe. Turning away and heading down the golden path he would walk for at least a few hours before coming to a port town near the sapphire waters. Again, wary of ambush, he stalked forth until he came to a stout green goblin counting his gold and muttering things to himself. Drawing his dagger, he grabbed the goblin over the mouth and pulled him back around a building where he slammed him up against the wall. "You. Green thing" Its eyes betrayed much fear "Those gryphons. I'm going to need one. Nod if you're okay with this" He paused "Considering the alternative, I suggest you nod" The goblin nodded rapidly, its screams muffled. "Good. I'm glad we agree on something...I'm guessing you're going to want money for this too?" It shook its head and Lokhir moved his hand "No no! It's free, friend! Wouldn't dare charge an upstanding man like yourself!" Lokhir blinked and tossed two gold coins and a few silver coins into the goblins hand as he mounted the gryphon. "You're so full of it...consider it a generous donation then. HYAH!" The gryphon took off into the night towards Tanaris at Lokhir's direction. The goblin stood dumbstruck at what just happened and looked at the money it was given. "That -was- generous..." It turned and dropped the coins in a sack that it tied to its belt and walked back into its little hut promptly fainting. Goblins seem to have an affinity for delayed reactions. On his way to Gadgetzan, Lokhir surveyed the land and laughed in the warm night air, spreading his arms wide and screaming at the top of his lungs in happiness. He shifted the pouches on his belt but his foot slipped off as the gryphon turned and Lokhir started plummeting towards the ground "Ah hell..." He braced himself for his inevitable impact yet it never came. He looked up to find that his mount had gripped his tunic. "I'm supposing you want food for this..." He had a deadpan expression on his face, arms crossed and feet dangling. As they reached Gadgetzan finally, the gryphon let him go and he skidded through the sand. He coughed and swore as he dusted himself off. "Stupid overgrown pidgeon..." He waltzed into the nearest pub and looked around. He surveyed the walls, the ceiling and the floors. The patrons paid him no mind, most were there to be forgotten and not draw attention themselves. Shrugging and stretching, he sat down at the table farthest from the door, his back turned as if to provoke an enemy's blade. A goblin sauntered up to him at the edge. "Hey there, friend. What can I get for you?" Lokhir popped his neck and ran fingers through his hair. "Got somethin' strong, little buddy?" The goblin grinned. "Sure do! Got the best drink money can buy this side of Kalimdor!" He produced a boda bag and squirted it into a glass on the tray he was carrying. "What do you call this?" Lokhir inquired as he swished the volatile-looking liquid around. "That's my special brew, I call it the 'Whatchamacallit' Drink! Gets rid of what ails ya" He coughed "As well as your memory, so I'm told" Lokhir grinned. "How much do I owe you?" The goblin crawled up onto the opposite seat and leaned a chin onto his hands. "Uhhhh...ten silver pieces?" He shrugged. "I've never really had a customer able to pay after they drink it" Lokhir raised an eyebrow and chugged the shot, coughing slightly, his eye twitching. "Guess there's a first time for everything, huh?" He tossed ten silver coins in front of the dumbstruck goblin who looked over his shoulder at a figure standing behind him. "What true assassin sits with his back to an open door?" The voice inquired, its honey-laced tone soothing to his ears. Suddenly a spring-trap clicked and fired a bolt right in front of the figure, barely missing its face. "One who realizes anyone foolish enough to think that deserves what they get" He turned around to see that it was the woman he was to meet here. The one he saved long ago. His face remained unchanged. "You're late" She smiled. "Time is set on its path, my lady, those of flesh do not dictate its events, merely play at its tune" He bowed his head respectfully. "And I am only late when I'm dead" He pointed to the clock on the wall. She looked and noticed that he was exactly on time, it was her who was late. She turned her head slowly back to him, grinning. "Come with me". She lead him by the hand out of the bar, the goblin still confused at what had happened. Out of Gadgetzan they walked along the moonlit dunes. "What do you see when you think of all that has happened in your life?" Lokhir absent mindedly watched the cliff rocks and the clear sky. "I see all things as they are and wonder what could have been. Like what would have been if I would have never left Gilneas...if I had stayed at Stromgarde...if I had never met Serana..." His eyes betrayed confusion and deep thought. "There are ways to see those things, Lokhir" She mentioned in passing. "Yeah, those who study at the Mage Towers can sometimes manifest those abilities" He shrugged. "Or I could always find the Titans and ask them for a peek" He chuckled to himself. "For all of your wit and knowledge you still do not see all possibilites" He stopped and looked at her "I do not see because right now I cannot see. Do you really think I take sides in this world? That I care only for myself? That I care for all? I care for my fate. I care for the fate of the actual world. But there is knowledge in balance, and there is balance in everything, therefore knowledge is all-encompassing, and it is endless for mortals. But I will say this, if I were an immortal, I'd find information on everything, know everything, see it all, and then watch as this world plays its dance, while I see the strands that mix and tie themselves together." The girl stared at him with glowing sapphire eyes, then turned and started walking again, Lokhir at her back. For a long while they said nothing to each other, his words echoing in her mind and the gears turning as she thought about what to do next. They came to a cliff wall entrance. "In here" She stated plainly. Without a second thought, Lokhir began to walk in to the niche. "Your weapons will not be needed in there, it is only your mind that can keep you alive." He nodded and jumped the rock and came to a very small valley. All around he saw broken ships, towers, and architecture. Orcish, Human, Goblin, Gnomish, Elven, both high elves and night elves, Troll, Tauren and Dwarven, all strewn about, buried under sand as if clawing the stay on this earthly plane, time swallowing them into an abyss of memory. "What the..." He surveyed the land as the maiden walked forward, her bare feet shifting noiselessly through the sand. "It is Time, Lokhir. It is its greatest work and is the physical nature of its past" She gestured to all the buildings that he saw. "And this place is where the Master resides and plans, all according to the capricious whims of Fate." He raised an eyebrow as she opened her arms wide as if revealing a great treasure. She turned to face him, her hair fallen to cover half of her face, yet her eyes glowed with a majestic bronze color that shone brilliantly. "These are the Caverns of the Time, home of the Master, Nozdormu, Aspect of Time, and Father of the Bronze Dragonflight" Lokhir raised his eyebrows. Impressive, he thought. "And -I- am Aeradormi, Warden of Time" She raised herself in the air as the change overtook her, wings sprouting from her back and extending as if they'd been closed for too long. Her head was thrown back, morphing, as the sands at her feet came up to swirl around her in a vortex of change. Her feet grew into claws as well as her hands, her body elongating and ending in a tail. Finally, a blast of bronze sand shot upwards from her throat with her triumphant yet defeaning cry. Lokhir fell to his knees in beatific awe and could only watch as the dragon came down to stalk towards him slowly. "Now then Lokhir Zendiralis, we have much to discuss". What happened there remains a mystery, only Lokhir himself knows and, incidentally, was sworn to secrecy by the Flight. 'Turn of the Tide' Lokhir recieved word from a servitor in the Blades that there had been a mass conflict in Stormwind and fled the Caverns in a desperate attempt to make it home before he lost any of his new family. The Warlock from the harbor, Hexon Grier, had just decided to make another go at the Blades. Sidorio (AKA "Necro") and a new member, Mepth, joined this fray and quickly found Hexon and turned his plans into a rout. Seriously injured, Hexon spat at his attackers and grinned widely, his hands reached up and tore open a hole in space which he fled through. Arrow, in her bravery, shifted and tackled him, as he inadvertently dragged them both through. The weight of her body and her rage at him slammed him against the ground and knocked him unconcious. Finding that they were at the Harbor still, she readied her death swipe but found that she could not bring herself to kill him. Perhaps it was because she has a loving heart that is a healer and cannot kill an unarmed, unconcious opponent, perhaps it was because Hexon had other uses still. Whatever the truth is, no one exactly knows. With the Blades rushing to her location Arrow's healing instincts got the better of her. Although his wounds were severe, she ripped him back from Death's embrace and promptly tossed his body into the ocean where he sank. Thus began a chain of events to a cataclysm that would sunder the House and the Blades. Most of the Blades were outraged that there was not bloodshed and killing to be had and rather loudly voiced their opinion. Mepth, the newest member, stayed silent on the matter and merely watched Arrow with dark curiosity. Finding his way back off the boats on Rut'Theran, he picked up a comm call from Brenthgar. "Lok, can ye come ta Darnassus, lad?" Ironic. "Of course, Brenthgar. What is it?" Something in his voice had changed. "S' an emergenceh, ye got ta come quickleh, lad". He calmly padded down the way in to Darnassus where Brenthgar was sitting next to the Druid Enclaves. He patted a space next to him and Lokhir, being the suspicious man that he was, slowly stalked over, his eyes darting around for an ambush. "A beautiful night, trees are swaying, wind is blowing, birds are singing and the air is warm. If your emergency is that you're too calm, I've got a poison for that" He stated plainly. Brenthgar chuckled. "Y'know lad, it's been a long time since ah ever had a recruit as good as ye" He hefted himself to his feet "Ye done a great job, ye have. Couldn't 'ave taken down the Legion withoot ye" His hands were clasped together as if praying. Not good, Lokhir thought. Brenthgar quickly shot his arms forward and strangled Lokhir in a garrote wire. "So why don't ye tell meh why ye betrayed us!?" His face red with anger. "I-..di-GAH" Lokhir couldn't even protest. "I loved ye, Lok...why did ye do it?". Trying to angle his head upwards for air he noticed the smiling face of Xanstin, his arms crossed in a smug expression of victory. "You whoreson bastard, I'll have your head for this" Lokhir thought to himself as he looked and saw Arrow and the group running to his aid. The wire was cutting into his flesh now, but still Brenthgar's tremendous strength gave no quarter. "Arrow...help...me" Lokhir mouthed as tears welled in his eyes, the pain becaming almost unbearable. He felt the sting of the cuts as it sliced deeper into his neck and as much as he wanted to cry out in soul-wrenching agony, he was silenced. The group protested that Brenthgar stop, the dwarf's face red with rage and burning anger, tears flowing from his eyes. Lokhir tried to ignore his pain as he reached out to his mate, but before he could even get close, Brenthgar jerked the wire and sliced into his neck up to the spine. With a look of abject terror in his eyes, Lokhir died just as quickly, thick blood pooling around his ever-growing cold corpse, his eyes still turned up to Arrow . Brenthgar spat and shoved Lokhir away where Arrow caught him."This is what we do to traitors," he snarled and jabbed a finger at the dead rogue. "Ye'd do well to remember tha'." Arrow hissed at the crazed dwarf "He's not a traitor!" Xanstin jumped down and stepped forward, spite in his every word "See? The whore shows loyalty to the ones she beds!" He whispered into Brenthgar's ear, that evil smile still on his face. Brenthgar hissed and shoved him to the side. "If ye know what's good for ye lass ye'll listen ta me. Right now. Don't heal tha' snake." With her robes being soaked in rich blood, Arrow looked into Lokhir's eyes, looking at her as if staring at her for support. Placing her hands on his neck, the raw and torn flesh mended itself back together, her power breathing life back into Lokhir as he screamed his almost never-ending agony, as the new air stung his lungs. "He's no traitor!" Arrow growled as she did her best to protect him, Xanstin's arrogant face betrayed only amusement. "Though perhaps you should look to the one whispering poison into your ears." It was a boldly unstable angle that Arrow lashed back from, with Brenthgar's temper was already focused on her. Something in Brenthgar made him pause, as if he actually considered her words. Lokhir stood weakly, rubbing his throat. "Hey Brenth, I slept with Arrow, and y'know what? It was damn good.." he admitted outright, grinning. He lifted a weakened arm to point at Xanstin. "But ask yourself, while I was with her...where was Xanstin? Dana can tell you for a fact it wasn't managing the guild as you ordered. It was to sow dissent." His hand fell from lack of strength, but still the conviction in his voice forced him on "Who is here with his own reinforcements? People who answer to him and only him, people you don't trust. That person is...uh-huh, you guessed it, Xanstin." Lokhir spat out his name. "If I was truly gunning for leadership, don't you think I would have brought back-up, even though you tricked me into coming here for a 'meeting'? I may be a crazy sonofabitch but you can bet your short, sorry ass that I'm not stupid." Arrow watched warily when Lokhir's words seemed to sink in with Brenthgar, Xanstin interrupted with a snap. "Easy to point a finger at me when three fingers go right back to you, where's the proof?" Lokhir grinned and reached down to a pouch on his side, Arrow trying to help him. He swatted her hand away gently, wanting to show that he at least had strength enough for so mundane a task. Tossing the bundle at Brenthgar's feet, he smiled as a stack of papers flowed out from the bag. He collapsed in Arrow's arms, trying to catch his breath. The dwarf scooped up a handful of the sheets, reading over them briskly as Xanstin tried to catch glances of the words, Brenthgar shambling away, muttering to himself what he was reading. Xanstin was getting worried at this point and rightly so. Finally Brenthgar turned around and stared at him, raising an insolent eyebrow. "What?!" Brenthgar peered at the man in Arrow's arms and adressed him, "Is all this accurate?" Lokhir coughed, spitting the congealed blood from his throat. "All of it, feel free to double check everything. I doubt the information you come across would be different." Brenthgar nodded slowly and threw some of the papers at Xanstin who caught the page and scanned it, his eyes bulging when he reached the bottom. "Care to explain that?" The dwarf snarled at the new-found traitor. Instead of defending himself Xanstin drew a blade lightning fast and ran, throwing himself deeper into the city. Mepth birthed forth from the shadows near Brenthgar, cooly mounted his steed and flew off towards the traitor Brenthgar turned an eye to all of those who had sided with the enemy and stated with controlled rage. "Bring me his 'ead n' I'll let ye all live". The group nodded rapidly and scattered like cockroaches. Brenthgar turned and inhaled an angry sigh, looking between Arrow and Lokhir, scanning them for what to say. Lokhir's throat was still raw but he knew he'd have to answer for all of this. "If you'd accept I'd offer you back your position, after..." The dwarf started. "I respectfully decline." Lokhir answered quickly. There was a point of no return and he had crossed it long ago. Raising a hand to the puckered scar on his neck, he winced in pain and buried himself deeper into Arrow's robes, her scent nulling the agony. The dwarf nodded, almost as if he expected this answer, then he looked to the Night Elf, his judgemental gaze searing her. "Between you and I, there is no more alliance." Brenthgar reached into a pocket and violently threw a small black box on the ground next to the pair with enough force to smash the wooden frame. With that, he turned on his heel, and followed the path of his men, almost fading into the shadows of Darnassus. Arrow numbly looked down at the shattered remains of the jewler's box and the wedding band that glittered with unsaid things in the starlight. Unknown to all, the enemy Hexon, watched and smirked at the scene he'd just witnessed. "Checkmate". 'A New Dawn' After Lokhir had left the Blades, the arms of the House of Grey opened wide to accept their new member. They had an intense appreciation of his skills and in no time at all he joined Arrow within the top ranks. There were mutterings among the lower members of the House over Lokhir's sudden leap into power, but inside the upper echelons he found himself at home. Lokhir took a keen new edge to the House's issues and spearheaded many of the problems that plagued the beleagured Seth. Arrow and Lokhir became the defacto showrunners and as such, the two spent as much time together as apart. Both knew full well that the at the day's end they could find peace in each other, but the House came first, and as such they took comfort knowing that when they saw each other again, that all was well. While the trust and respect Lokhir had gathered among his comrades spread to the House, it was an odd tidbit of knowledge to find that relations with the Blades remained better off than what was once expected. Brenthgar had almost nothing to do with said relations but had no grudge against the two guilds working together. As for the traitor Xanstin, his freedom was short-lived. A new arrival to the scene, Sllade, found his way to Xanstin's throat, and promptly laid his head at Brenthgar's feet. All seemed well until the day that Seth came up to his beloved members and announced that he would be leaving Arrow and Lokhir in charge of the House as he had to deal with family issues. Not wanting to delve too far into his personal life, Lokhir agreed and set about taking care of the issues that the House had had in the meantime (recruitment, bank management, alliances, etc.) alongside Arrow, who seemed like her curiosity into Seth's life was either unfounded or unhealthy, yet Lokhir paid no mind. Accustomed to dealing with hardships before, he tried to deal with what he had, although the strange absence of Raven (Dalithor) still worried him, as Lokhir saw the brooding Night Elf as a good friend, despite his cold demeanor. All of the time spent ran like clockwork. The cogs did turn and all of the members put their shoulders to the wheel and found commonality and brotherhood like never before. It was not until a familiar sight crept around that the plans started to falter occasionally. Hexon, the warlock of vilest repute somehow unconsciously worked his corrupted tendrils into the minds of the House. The worst part was that nothing failed in a spectacular way, but over time in the smallest steps. Some would cut corners on their work, some would espouse their own way of getting a job done, then eventually became rather dissonant with their duty to the House altogether. Hexons form was everywhere, around every corner, in every bustling city street, and in all rooms, his dark gaze fixated on his unwitting and silently fearful prey. This manner was not met without resistance, being a leader of the House, Arrow took it upon herself to stalk after the hated warlock, figuring out his patterns and learning of his subtle ways. The path of a tyrant wass not his fate, she would learn; but that of a vizier, a power behind the throne. Hexon found himself smiling at different parts of the day because of his influence, like an artist surveying his growing masterpiece. He smiled with sickening glee as his plans clicked into place like the cogs of his mind working all as one. Yet the longer that Arrow watched him, and learned of him, the more she suspected that he was, indeed, a truly dangerous Human. To face such a chaos, such a demonic infestation was to nurture it, to feed its abyssal hunger and slowly amalgamate yourself with it by becoming the very thing you would swear to defeat. But power is a subtle game, and whilst being so destructive, could also be harnessed and guided. Perhaps it could even be utilized for the greater good. But the power that Hexon controlled, being pure evil, was also drawn heavily upon the mind; and his was no foolish path, but a labyrinthine nightmare, filled with panic, plague, terror, hatred and an obsession of Bacchanalian indulgence that the warlock was so notorious for. His scores of countless gibbering and mentally divorced victims was a testament to such a corrupted soul. But he could not be a part of the House. No, he must be guided, he must be bought out and contracted, then this power would be under the rule of the House. But a bribe would sway him. The blood of an innocent, soul essence, or even a night in a harem, it didn’t matter. His excesses were monstrous, but that made it that much easier. With love in her heart, and a massive desire to protect, she made her decision despite its contradiction. Ready for her action, she convened with Lokhir, and readily he agreed, his thoughts of sacrifice bent towards the House, ignoring the price that must be paid. In a series of mere hours Arrow and Lokhir were united in the plan they were about to hatch on one unsuspecting Warlock. It was not until sometime later that they invited Hexon in the spirit of supposed neutrality, they used every last resource to flesh out their plans and what was to be. Despite his comments of “This better be worth my time” and “I have rather important matters to attend to” Both Lokhir and Arrow, in their generous, diplomatic natures agreed to speak with him in his home of comfort, wherever it may have been. Incidentally, Sargeron in Desolace was such a place. An osseous and deprived land, Lokhir felt strangely at home. He had seen death so much it kind of became a warm feeling to him to be amongst the silent dead. His travels through Duskwood exposed him to a rather furious element of those blessed with unlife. It was a rare sight to behold that with such a man as Hexon, it would be expected to see a place full of corruption and sickening abominations to nature. To Arrow and Lokhirs’ mutual surprise, it was green, teeming with life, albeit, the demonic kind. Wild satyrs played to and fro, feeding on the flora and fauna of the land, casting their foul magicks upon one another in a twisted idea of fun. Their dark zest for the stolen life they owned awoke something within Lokhir, though he fought to keep it down. Surprisingly, this went unnoticed by the dark-skinned man they sought. The satyrs wound through the desecrated elven ruins, chasing each other and heaving tainted rocks at one another, their single minded playfulness bringing a smile to Hexons face, the look of patriarchal love painted upon his visage. While Lokhir twitched and sniffed around, his form become rippled with heat, the muscles growing in an almost primal way, as he smelled such strong blood in their veins. The adrenaline, the power, the blood gained by absolute disregard for all that was good and moral that pumped through their system called to him and his animal senses awoke. Forcing his hunger down, Lokhir strayed on behind Arrow, her senses unassuming of his change, preoccupied with her target. They waltzed up to a form sitting patiently on a monolithic building, eyeing his subjects and showing no sign of alert as the two approached him. Lokhir turned and eyed a satyr that had wandered close to them and watched with narrowed slits. Slipping a hand down his leg, he silently drew out a throwing knife where the demon could not see. "Do not harm my pets." Hexon warned, his voice alerting the demon to the Rogues intentions. Its eyes bulged at the sight of Lokhirs face, teeming with hunger, and it ran away in silent terror. The Warlock smiled, satisfied, and stood before them, brushing himself off and clasped his hands behind his back. Arrow was the first to speak, and her blunt nature came as no surprise to Hexon "We want you to work for us," She stood straight, as if giving a command. "And we are willing to give you something worth while in return.". Lokhir padded up beside her, the heat roiling off of his form. She leaned toward him, seeking his comfort as Hexon turned clear blue eyes on her. "What could you give me that I would find of value?..." His arrogant demeanor was rather apparent as he eyed the druid up and down, almost salivating at his thoughts. Turning his gaze to Lokhir, he gave him the same intimate look, which the Rogue ignored and stalked off to the side. Trying his best not to look too obvious, he tilted his head in an expectant manner, as if keeping his options open to whatever they might try to offer him. Noticing him all too quickly, she ran a bare hand down the side of the Warlock's face, neck, and chest to see his eyes narrow slightly. "I think something could easily be arranged." Arrow said in her deep, seductive, honeyed voice. This expectant passion was broken only by the sound of a whimpering roar and the sound of slow, bloody, tearing flesh. They both turned to see Lokhir straddled next to the fallen body of a satyr, the long strap of flesh torn from its stomach, as the Rogue pulled and chewed it off, dragging his tongue along the sweet, tainted bloody muscle of the demon. Its stolen essence was smeared over the torso of Lokhirs body before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and the animal inside came out. He gave in to his bloodlust and started hacking at the raw, exposed flesh of the demon with his bare hands, his nails ripping at it like claws. Hexon gulped and stared at the man in salivating desire, his eyes turning a hazy, smoky golden color, augmented even more when Arrow ran her claws gently down his chiseled form. The sounds of their passionate symphony were orchestrated with the dark aural joy of the demons body being torn asunder to feed Lokhir. Turning his glances from it, he gripped Arrow and shot a gaze straight into her eyes. “I want both of you.” He demanded, his breath hot and heaving. “And power...” Arrow cooed as she ran her delicate fangs over the joint of his shoulder. She could smell Lokhirs pheromones in the air and felt the flesh on her back rise as he turned to look at them both. He came up to her, his exposed, growling form saturated in thick, copious amounts of blood and chunks of sinew hung from his hands. His canine teeth sunk into Arrow lovingly, as if coaxing more blood from her, yet still knowing that she was his mate. Hexon followed suit and for it he was fed the life energy of the druid, his flesh turning into a deep, smoky gray. Trapping the Warlock between themselves, the next activity would seal him in their grasp. "Checkmate" Lokhir thought. They had won. Hexon was now theirs to command and it had been a long while since Arrow was able to finally rest. The House was an established order, and none dared cross it without feeling the repercussions on a dire level. Lokhir took it upon himself to oversee control, as Seth wished, and Arrow was grateful to be the power behind the throne, and as such, relinquished her control to him, which he gladly accepted. From his position, he lead the House to prosperity as they held their foundation and were not swayed by threats or confrontation. Word had reached Lokhir that the Blades were drifting, and there was almost no way to stop it. Far from being able to truly help due to the fact that Brenthgar had sunk into a state of madness and become irredeemably insane. He could no longer weep for his former commander, a leader must be seen as strong, he thought. But in silence, Lokhir was enraged that one he had so much time with, so much in common with, was fallen, and he could only watch in stark rage as the Blades finally dissipated into memory, and finally, history. When the House was finally secure in their days, a threat that actually held some merit came to the fore. Thaelan, the upstart paladin, had seen fit to overthrow the House and rend it asunder. Delusions of adequacy plagued this fool, and Lokhir would have none of it. Arrow took some time to prowl the lands of Feralas, wanting to stretch her wings, so to speak. She needed some well earned R and R, he thought, so he left her to her own affairs, for the time being. He was not about to let his precious mate so far out of his sight, and with Thaelan trying to steal every last chance to usurp the House, the Lokhir was a man of razor-sharp paranoia. And with good reason, for the threats against him and his kin were many, and common. But as Lokhir suspected, something was bound to go wrong. Unbeknownst to Arrow, he and a cadre of his finest followed him. Tracking the mercenary paladin, they followed in the shadows and came upon a scene of Arrow and Thaelan at ends with each other. Arrow kept her calm, while the paladin’s smug and arrogant form swaggered forward. “I needed to discuss something with you” He started. “Particularly your death...” and drew his sword. “Gee, how creative...” Lokhir sarcastically muttered under his breath. Arrow did not move, unfazed by this attempt. “That’s a very serious thing to say. What exactly have I done to warrant this type of attention?” He ignored her, not even sparing the effort to present his reasons. “Seth and Raven need to be removed before any plans of mine can go into effect. And to do –that- I need to get rid of you.” She scoffed at him. “And these plans of your are what?” He flashed another arrogant smile. “It’s rather simple to guess but I suppose that’s beyond your ability to understand, being nothing but a slut as you are.” His goading attempt failed miserably when Arrow merely raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to slaughter the House. Its usefulness is at an end.” The druid spent what little time she had sizing the distance between the two of them, finally answering as she saw a slight flash of red cloth sway behind Thaelan’s back. “Why? What have –we- ever done to –you-?”. He snorted, “Well for starters my infiltration of the First Regiment. I brough back quality information, their tactics and weaponry, to get –nothing- in return! The House was just –so- fascinated with their new Blade alliance to even care about –my- hard work! I gathered intel under the constant threat of execution to get what Seth asked of me, and for –what-!?” His rage was building as he paced back and forth, his hand flexing over the hilt of his blade. "And then when I started to get some recognition for my gadgets it was swept under the rug as useless toys when Catherfana involved us with Sllade and his ilk." Arrow watched the madman pace back and forth over and over as a familiar feeling stroked her back and gave her the knowledge that Lokhir was watching. Another face popped up from the shadows, scarlet hood contrasting against the verdant fauna. So Mepth decided to grace us with his presence as well, she thought. “So now I've been offered a better place with some new friends of mine. All for the easy price of the House's blood. So after I finish wiping my blade of your blood I'll do Lokhir and tell him exactly how you tried to worm your way under me before you died. After all, who'd believe a whore wouldn't try to fuck her way out?" The rage in Arrow's face was starting to show, one can only take so many insults, after all. "You're right. Who wouldn't try to save their life by any means possible?" She swaggered toward Thaelan, who wasn't taking her acceptance of the situation well at all. "At least let me give you a little something to remember me by." The mad paladin was starting to get agitated. Arrow reached out a caressing hand to his chest and cuddled up against him. Trying to push her away, a wave of horror washed over him when he discovered that he could not. Her skin formed and reknitted as bark, the cells merging and conjoining with Thaelans form. The two physically became one, and the paladin hacked wildly at her Ironwood body, his panic reaching terrible heights. He stabbed even at himself, the gut-wrenching pain becoming intolerable as he found he was only hurting himself. Lokhir and Mepth birthed themselves from the shadows and smirked, their arrogance arriving full-circle. Thaelan's warped and hollowed voice echoed outwards, a slight smile. From somewhere inside the tangle of rooted limbs and human muscle Thaelan began to shout, "Get the fuck out of me! Fuck off or I'll blow us both to fucking hell!" "Mind your temper, Thaelan. You wouldn't want me to give her the go ahead to kill you just yet." Lokhir grinned behind his mask, the form of his lips showing and an icy look penetrated Thaelans eyes. He tried his best to release his holy rage into the area yet, at best, this was a temporary advantage. Arrow's Ironwood form was largely unaffected, save for a few pieces of bark that painfully tore away only to be regrown again. Mepth was disoriented and Lokhir was blinded for a few moments, the energy scouring his exposed flesh. But like a phoenix, the three reemerged and continued with their plan. Lokhir!" Thaelan snarled viciously, "You mother shitting bastard. I just activated an Adamantite bomb so when I go, I'll take both you fucking cunts with me!" Lokhir prowled around the conjoined pair before stopping by Mepth and laying a finger thoughtfully on his own jaw. "Arrow would you be a love and deactivate the bomb like I showed you how?" Her Ironwood tendrils shifted around a large mass under the plate on Thaelan's chest. After a few moments her sibilant voice answered, frustrated. "It'ss sssealed from the inssside, I can't get at it." Silence broken by the Paladin's suicidal laughter rang in the dead quiet woods. "Better hurry, Lokhir. Tick tock, you've got two fucking minutes before this blows." "Weren't you just telling me about that E.M.P. device you were fiddling with before we left Stormwind, Lokhir?" Mepth conveniently stated, his voice strangely reminiscent of Hexon's. The hunger in his voice was almost terrifingly real as his throat seemed to echo with two voices at once. But Lokhir noticed this and kept his wicked grin wide and recognizable. You know, I almost forgot about that. Thank you, err, Mepth." Lokhir pulled forth a small box he had been holding behind his back. Thaelan screamed a desperate cry of rage as he realized that he'd failed. Lokhir activated the machine and a wave of electricity hummed through her body to shut down the bomb. The hunger in Mepth's eyes was almost uncontrollable, his form was shaking almost, as his fingers gently caressed the man. "Let me see his face." The Warlock demanded cordially, she obliged him. His rough flesh made Mepth's eyes dilate with even greater desire. "You know, I have a feeling you'll be tasty." Thaelan's death rattle as his soul was split by Mepth and physical body was absorbed by Arrow was terrible indeed, a twisted mockery of a final testament that all Paladin's are known for. The Druid carried one razor edged thought. 'No one attacks what's mine,' she looked to Lokhir, his arms crossed, and form standing defiant. Her head shook and she corrected herself, 'What's ours, for the future'. The rogue turned and walked down the path and into the fauna, knowing that they would finish and catch up with him. "The future?...my dear Arrow, I -am- the future..." His hands clenched into fists as his pace quickened. Rise of the Blackhearts Subsequently, the Grey title was cast aside from status and into history. From it's ashes the Blackheart Consortium was born. Underground to the last man and woman, it was a safe haven for those of the House and of the Blades. Those whose loyalty could not be questioned formed its inner circle and its members consisted of Lokhir, Mepth, Hexon (a bargain set him among its ranks) and Zethrax. A long time friend of Arrow and a former guild master who had run his own guild of theives and cultists in the past, Zethrax had formed the sternguard of the House when the Blades could not aid them. He was contracted to assassinate Brenthgar and Madroy grudgingly, as Lokhir did not want his former brothers to suffer anymore from the madness they had devolved into. Yet eventually, the contract was called off, it wasn't his place to decide this, and he knew it. But changing the name of the guild was not enough, they were still hunted, and vehemently. Lokhir, Arrow, and Hexon formed the nerve center of the guild's protectorate. Anyone who acted upon their grudges were eliminated without mercy, they could simply not afford to let them live. Many espoused that they were cruel, unforgiving, contradictory, and utterly inhuman. Lokhir would respond that in many ways, they were right. Anyone who cared for their loved ones should be willing to go to the wall for what they believe in, and if they couldn't, then they didn't deserve to keep those they supposedly cared for. He would also go on to say that self-styled wolves playing as victims to attain allies was a cowardly move, and was a tactical refuge of the uncreative and weak. Those belonging within the roster but held no higher position of the Consortium were Adelaide, Valcore, Crimsonfate, and Catherfana. Very quickly Hexon and Mepth formed an animosity toward each other that drew back on the most basic levels of their pasts. The two Warlocks watched each other with one eye despite Hexon's casual dismissal of the open threat, not being one to move unless his needs drove him. Later on, Lokhir decided to forego the squabbling ubiquitous to so many leaders and their guildmates. The Consortium, he would argue, is a place where information should thrive, not be used as a weapon against its own. But not all was well within the House. Eventually, false information played its part in the inner workings as well, Lokhir and his coterie single-handedly dispatched Sethgrey upon his return, believing him to be a traitor and conspirator that sought to end the Consortium. Despite his protestations, Lokhir did not believe the man, and with the aid of Catherfana, Seth met his gruesome end. With a bullet to finish the job and a heave off of the Stormwind Harbor, Lokhir ended his percieved threat. Later on he would learn of this mistake and he has never forgiven himself since. Alas there was turmoil within the Consortium again, Valcore raged against Lokhir and his council for the death of Seth Grey, despite mounting evidence of the supposed treachery, Valcore would not have any of it and tore the tabard from his breast. Evialynn, wife of Thaelan and mother of his unborn child cornered Lokhir days before the occurence and, after a verbal confrontation, ended in an all-out battle in the Cathedral District with the aid of Niikita. Resulting in Lokhir having multiple broken bones, lacerations, and burns, Niikita walking away with barely a scratch, Arrow having slight bruises, and Evialynn losing her unborn. The rogue-turned-leader felt a deep remorse...but not for long. For some inexplicable reason, mercy started to slip away from Lokhir. He could no longer cry, nor feel very much pity for others. He'd become so jaded off of the carnage that had been wrought since he made his first kill. With that, Lokhir turned and walked away, enjoying the bright sunlight of the summer day, he told himself everything would be fine. Life would be worth living again, at least, until later on during his hike through the Hillsbrad Foothills, he recieved a distress signal on his comm. Arrowshifter had collapsed in the Grizzly Hills and was exhibiting a strange flux of power. Calling his faithful mount, he set off towards the frozen land of Northrend posthaste.